


Wildcard Inn

by Sophie_Of_Tarth



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Jaime/Brienne Appreciation Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-04
Updated: 2014-10-04
Packaged: 2018-02-19 20:06:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2401262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophie_Of_Tarth/pseuds/Sophie_Of_Tarth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaime and Brienne Appreciation Week Day 7 - Wild Card Day<br/>Note to self - Never go drinking with Jaime Lannister</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wildcard Inn

**Author's Note:**

> The story that almost didn't make it!!!  
> Thanks for a great week.

“Oh damn, damn, damn,” Brienne huffed through her teeth.

It was a gross understatement given her current predicament, but this early in the morning Brienne could not think of anything else to say and already she was planning to get up pretty sharpish otherwise her new best friend would wake up to find exactly what had happened to his favourite shirt and spare underclothes.

She lay there staring up at the ceiling; the presence of the lean body next to her made her less willing to get up than she would admit to. Stealing a sidelong glance at her companion’s features, squashed slightly against his pillow as he lay facing her, Brienne assured herself he was actually sleeping soundly before shutting her eyes and giving herself another few minutes before making a move.

_Ye gods but above her left cheek felt like it was on fire._

In addition to that, she was feeling slightly queasy and her head felt sore. Lying there with her eyes shut, all Brienne could think about was what she was going to have to do when she finally did make a move from the bed.

Brienne opened her eyes again and leaving her head facing the ceiling, she peered out of the corner of her eye at _his_ face again.

This time the green eyes were wide open and staring right at her, jade with gold flecks revealed by the morning sunlight only partially muted by the half drawn curtains that dominated one side of the room. The expression on his face was enough to make her stare bolt upright at the ceiling once more.

“I realised I was drunk last night – but not that drunk!” a cool cynical voice stated very close to her right ear, half muffled by pillow.

 “There was a fight… at the Wildcard Inn… you were too… unwell… to get home,” Brienne rambled on, seriously wondering at what point she could possibly have thought it was a good idea to stay, “you were very ill… vomiting, it was very… um, messy.”

She became aware of twisting the bottom of the shirt between her fingers, and had to concentrate on letting it go and smoothing it flat.

“Really?” the voice drawled, “You do know you really are still much uglier in the daylight.”

_Did he ever give it a rest?_

“For the love of the seven will you just shut up Lannister?” Brienne told him, damning the quiver in her voice, but try as she might she couldn’t get her voice level so she wavered on, her voice weary, “Just shut up. You don’t have to say thank you but don’t make me wish I’d left you at that stupid place to be beaten up by a bunch of animals. You just would not keep your mouth closed… I thought they were going to kill you.”

Her bed partner kept quiet as if thinking on what she said, before giving a brief laugh.

“Wow, it’s been a long time since I’ve been on a bender quite that bad,” he admitted wryly.

“And let’s hope it’s an age before you do it again,” snapped Brienne, “because I’ll leave you to it next time.”

“You don’t mean that Tarth,” he grinned, “you live to pull me out of trouble and tell me that you told me so.”

“You flatter yourself,” she told him grimly.

A chuckle rumbled the mattress and an arm flopped over Brienne’s waist.

Brienne jumped at the touch of his warm skin on her belly as if it scalded her.

“I must say my shirt looks far better on you than I imagine it ever did on me,” he mused in the lazy, sensuous voice that Brienne was coming to recognize as the one that haunted her thoughts night and day.

“And you were so very kind to lend it to me Lannister,” she said, “You did say it was the least you could do after you had been so… ill over me.” Her voice sounded a little higher than normal and she was kicking herself for calling him Lannister in a situation like this; it was a ridiculous slip, making her nerves seem obvious and drawing attention to her slightly wobbly voice.

 “Jaime,” he reminded her.

_Keep it cool, hold it together, you can do this, deep breaths._

“I had better go,” she huffed and puffed, lifting his arm from her waist with her fingers around his wrist, before dropping it onto the bed and sitting up.

“Not until you call me by my first name,” said the voice from beneath the head of tousled blond hair as he then nuzzled her shoulder apparently ignoring her efforts to leave, “you do know that your skin…”

“Yes, yes I have skin,” she muttered nervously, “Great. Jaime, I’m so pleased you are feeling better.” Brienne edged towards the side of the bed, easing her way away from the weight and warmth of his body.

_There, said it, happy now?_

“You’re nervous,” Green eyes watched her progress with a predatory gleam once her shoulder had moved beyond his reach, “why so nervous Tarth?”

Brienne didn’t really absorb his question; she was too busy trying to slide off the bed without drawing attention to herself.

Lannister stretched himself out as if to block her exit in a totally relaxed _, I’m really not that interested_ sort of way. She was suddenly aware of was how closely he was studying her bare legs and how it was rendering her incapable of processing anything else. He seemed preoccupied with the freckles that were scattered over the skin of her thighs as they emerged from the bottom of a pair of his ridiculously baggy smallclothes.

 

“You should have a bad hangover for a week after all the whisky you drank last night,” she told him in attempt to distract him as she edged even closer to the edge of the bed and the door.

“It was excellent whisky and I’ve got a hard head. My Lannister breeding has to be good for something,” he explained to her as he watched her progress like a cat would watch a captured mouse attempting to make an escape from its paw. “I’ll be fine.”

His left hand had found its way onto her leg, halting her movement, and was caressing the skin there in a most disturbing manner. Brienne shut her eyes as it slid higher, “Jaime I don’t think this is a good idea,” she groaned as she was pulled back to be enfolded against his long, muscular body. His mouth was on hers, and then her neck and her shoulders, burning like a brand against her skin.

“Why not?” He growled.

“Because we’re not even friends really,” she gasped against his throat, returning touch for touch and kiss for kiss as he led the way with his wicked mouth, “and there is every chance you may still be drunk from last night.”

“I remember a shower,” Jaime said between kisses peppered along her collarbone,” only one of us was naked but there was definitely a shower. Whatever I am from last night, drunk is not it.”                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          

Then, abruptly, he stopped.

“What the…?” Jaime held her chin in his good hand and turned her face towards the sunlight that was streaming in through a gap in the curtains.

It was as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice cold water over her as he pulled her up into a sitting position with him and made her face the full length mirror on the wall opposite the bed.

All Brienne could do was stare at the reflected image before her; her own figure, the all too familiar homely face slightly averted, straw like hair dishevelled, her lips swollen from kisses, sitting next to a gorgeous rumpled blond, an emerald eyed devil who drew the eye simply by sitting there. His naked lithe torso half curled around her own as he held her head in place to show her left cheek.

“So tell me Brienne, exactly where did you get this?” He had her chin in a gentle yet firm grip within the fingers of his left hand and was holding it there so she could see the bruising to her eye.

_Wow, it’s a real shiner._

“You are hurting me,” she lied, although his hold on her did distort her lips to such an extent that her words sounded ridiculous, “let me go you oaf.”

“Not until you tell me,” he spoke in low clipped tones that brooked no argument.

“Let my chin go then.” she insisted, and when he did so Brienne flexed her jaw a few times before shooting him a vengeful look. “You were on the floor, you had fallen or had been pushed, I can’t remember but still your mouth would not stop talking… after you had asked them if they knew who you were, after you had insulted their parents, their mothers and then the size of their,” she shot a look at him in the mirror, “man-parts... the biggest one grabbed what was left of a chair with one hand and threw a punch with the other.  I managed to get between you and the chair, but the punch…” she shrugged, “he was too quick and I was distracted by the other two who seemed intent on kicking you into the seven hells.”

Jaime turned away from the mirror to study her for a moment, his face a frozen mask, eyes like emerald chips.

“I’ll find him and when I do,” he stated, “I’ll give you his bloody ‘man-parts’ in a jar.”

“Jaime!” Brienne turned to look at him, her face disapproving, “whilst I appreciate the thought, it was you who provoked him.”

He held her gaze for one long moment , his eyes as green and fathomless as a forest pool on a summers day, before finally dropping his regard to his right arm and his missing hand.

“Do you know what’s worse, I can’t even remember the reason I got so blind drunk in the first place,” Jaime admitted to her quietly, glancing up at her as she watched him ponder. “I don’t even know why I got us dragged into some ridiculous fight, and managed to get you....” he gave up before he had to say anything more.

“I do.”

Brienne brushed back a lock of hair from where it had flopped onto his face and then dropped a chaste kiss onto his lean cheek, “happy nameday Jaime.”


End file.
